Madison Filey Find A Prostitute ❤️

About London

Oi mate, me, Mr. Bean, heh, stumbling ‘round like a daft git, yeah? So, findin’ a prostitute, right—blimey, what a palaver! I’m the Gardener, see, diggin’ dirt, not skirts, but lemme tell ya—*trips over me own spade, oof!*—it’s a right murky job, innit? Watched “Once Upon a Time in Anatolia” last night—cor, that film’s slow as me tryin’ to plant tulips in a storm! Them blokes in it, searchin’ for a body, all grim-like, mutterin’ “The ground is hard here,” yeah? Reminds me of this—diggin’ for a prossie in dodgy alleys, eh!

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When I get there, the place is packed. Everyone’s laughin’, drinkin’, and I’m just tryin’ to find Dave. Finally spot him at the bar, lookin’ like a lost puppy. “What’s up, mate?” I ask. He’s like, “I’ve got a surprise!” I’m thinkin’, “Please don’t be a tattoo.” But nah, he pulls out a bottle of the finest local ale. “Cheers!” he says, and we clink glasses.

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